The Closing of the Year
by fhestia
Summary: Neville makes his annual Christmas visit, bringing with him comfort and hope. One-shot, Post-Hogwarts AU. Written for the Christmas songfic drabble challenge at the Elderly Harry Potter Fans forum.


_Disclaimer: Written out of my deep and abiding affection for the characters and world created by JKR. No infringement on the properties of JKR and Warner Brothers intended. _

_Thank you to everyone who has read my stories and been kind enough to leave a review. Never Alone has had over 10,000 hits, and this bit of Christmas fluff is for my fellow Snape lovers._ _Happy holidays, however you celebrate._

* * *

_If I cannot bring you comfort_

_ Then at least I bring you hope..._

"Ah, Mr. Longbottom. Making the charity rounds again, I see."

His hair was shorter now, with threads of grey interspersed in the black, but the look out of his eyes, as flinty and unforgiving as ever, still caused a twist of fear in the younger man's stomach.

Neville looked away, juggling a large potted plant in one arm, and a bulky package under the other. Every year he tried to convince himself that this was pointless, a fool's errand, yet every year at Christmas he found himself drawn back to this tiny, secluded cottage set high on a hillside.

"May I come in?" he asked.

With an aggrieved sigh, Snape stood back from the door, barely allowing Neville enough room to squeeze past him.

Nothing had changed, Neville realized as he looked around the sitting room. There was the writing desk in the same location under a bank of windows, and the walls of shelves filled with neatly arranged volumes and containers of nameless potion ingredients...and just as in previous years, no tree in the cottage, no decorations, nothing at all to mark this season as being different from any other.

"Merry Christmas, Professor Snape."

"I am no longer a professor, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, folding his arms and regarding him stonily. "That is now your happy duty."

Neville smiled wryly at this. If anything had given him a grudging appreciation for his formerly feared professor, it was the harsh reality and weighty responsibility of teaching.

"Well, happy Christmas anyway, sir," he said, transferring the weight of the pot to his other arm. "This is for you."

"Another plant?" Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "How original."

"I'll put it with the others, shall I?" Neville asked, beginning to move towards the low shelves under the window, where a neat grouping of well-tended plants were spreading their glossy leaves toward the late-morning sun.

"I will do that," he said, lifting the pot from Neville's hands. "You're as much a terror now as when you were a student, and I don't care to have you crashing about heedlessly in my house."

Snape set the plant down roughly, his face indifferent, but he was taking his time turning and repositioning the container. In the ensuing silence, a soft trilling sound began to fill the small space. It grew steadily in volume, and Neville smiled as he hung his cloak on a peg near the door, knowing the _Lilium levamentum_ responded only to a gentle touch on its leaves.

As he turned back towards Neville, Snape lifted away a tendril that had twined itself around his wrist. Neville's smile widened, despite the answering scowl from Snape. The comfort lily had been an inspired choice. He was doing the right thing, he was certain of it now.

_For nothing is more precious _

_Than the time we have and so,  
_

_We all must learn from small misfortunes _

_Count the blessings that are real..._

"Since you've apparently nothing better to do than waste your time visiting me, you'll also have time for a cup of tea."

It wasn't posed as a question and Neville didn't respond. He had allowed time for this in his day because it was something else that never varied, not in all the years he had been visiting. As Snape busied himself in the small kitchen, Neville took his usual seat on the worn couch where a book was lying open and a pair of reading glasses had been set aside.

"If I remember," Snape said, walking through with a tray laden with a pot and two cups, "You take a nauseating amount of sugar in your tea..." His voice trailed off as he spotted the bulky package that Neville had placed in a conspicuous location on the couch.

"What is this?" Snape asked, indicating the parcel with a jerk of his head as he placed the tray on a side table.

"Open it and see," Neville said. Snape made a show of ignoring it as he filled their cups, passing one to Neville before he reluctantly picked up the package. Neville held his breath, watching him. It suddenly seemed a foolhardy and presumptuous thing to have done.

The movement of Snape's hands was deliberate and precise as he carefully unwrapped the package. As the paper fell away to reveal a swath of dark green material, he stilled.

"Are these...dress robes?" Snape asked in a quiet voice, not looking up.

Neville nodded. "Although I'm not sure they'll billow quite as impressively as your professorial robes always seemed to."

Snape smoothed one hand across them, the faint whisper of his fingers against the fabric audible in the heavy silence. "I haven't worn robes for..."

"Seven years, sir, I know," Neville said, interrupting him. "But they _are_ standard attire for the Hogwarts Christmas luncheon."

His head snapped up at these words. "I have no plans of attending the Christmas luncheon. Not this year, nor ever." Snape roughly pushed the package from his lap and stood. "You should have asked me first, instead of presuming I would accompany you."

"And give you a chance to refuse?" Neville asked, turning to watch him pace the small room.

Snape paused by the windows, his hands clasped so tightly behind his back that his knuckles whitened. "It's out of the question," he said with finality.

"But sir, it's only one day, and a meal with people who care about you and want more than anything to see you again." Neville came to stand next to him, and side by side they looked out towards the village in the distance. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he added quietly.

"I am not...this is...this is not fear, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, passing a trembling hand over his eyes. "But there is nothing at Hogwarts for me now. Nothing but ghosts. Ghosts and painful memories."

"Then it's time to make new memories."

With a mirthless laugh, he said, "You are naive in the extreme, Mr. Longbottom. As if it were that simple. As if it were even possible, after everything that's happened, after.." Snape drew a shuddering breath. "...after everything I've done."

"You did only what you were asked to do, without thought for the cost." Neville met the older man's intense gaze before asking bluntly, "You don't even realize it, do you?"

Unease sharpened Snape's voice as he answered. "Realize what?"

"That you're a hero," Neville said. "You've been exonerated publicly. Whatever it is you've done, it's been forgiven. And now," he said, placing a hand on the older man's arm, "you need to forgive yourself."

Beneath his fingers, Neville could feel Snape's arm tense, and knew he was risking being shouted at or being thrown bodily from his house, but he tightened his grasp nonetheless. Whatever happened now, it would be worth it, if only he could unbend himself enough to accept what was on offer: redemption and forgiveness and love. He needed this. They all needed this, and it was much too important to allow him to refuse.

"Will you come back with me today? Please?"

_This is a time to be together_

_And the truth is somewhere here_

_Within our love of people_

_At the closing of the year._

It was taking Snape a very long time to change, and just as Neville began to wonder if he would ever venture out of his bedroom again, he appeared in the doorway. Snape seemed to have grown in stature, his posture straightened, his old air of confidence and authority resting on him as elegantly as did the dress robes.

"I don't..." Snape began, and then his voice faltered. "I won't be paraded around, do you understand?"

"It's not going to be like that," Neville said. "And if it all gets to be too much, I'll knock something over or...or set something on fire and you can call me a blundering idiot and I'll get you out of there."

He held Snape's cloak out for him and then shrugged into his own. Just before they left the cottage, Snape paused with his hand on the door. "Why you, of all people?" he asked Neville. "It's been years. Why has no one else ever taken it upon themselves to visit me?"

Neville could detect no bitterness in his voice, only a sense of puzzlement that anyone had bothered to seek him out in the first place.

"Perhaps because I was the only one foolish enough to invade your privacy."

"A bull-headed Gryffindor to the very core, aren't you, Longbottom?

"Yes sir, I suppose I am."

They stepped outside together, the snow crunching under their feet, and from somewhere in the distance, church bells began to sound the hour.

"It's time, sir," Neville said with an encouraging smile, noticing the look of uncertainty on Snape's face. "Time to come back."

_Let the bells ring out for Christmas _

_At the closing of the year_


End file.
